


Canada and France

by AuthorReinvented



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: America is protective, Canada cries, Cute, England is tsundere, Feels, Fluff, France and Canada make up, Gen, Not Funny, Sad, Touching, canada prétends to be France
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-01
Updated: 2020-01-08
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:41:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 12
Words: 5,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22061242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthorReinvented/pseuds/AuthorReinvented
Summary: Canada decides to pretend to be France...When Canada accidently says something he shouldn't, England gets upset, and things quickly escalateIf you've read my other story:https://archiveofourown.org/works/22021507Please  note the story is the same till the end of chapter 2 where we end with the bad touch trio. After that the story is completely different.
Relationships: Canada/France (Hetalia)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [France, Eh?](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22021507) by [AuthorReinvented](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuthorReinvented/pseuds/AuthorReinvented). 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've read my other story:   
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/22021507  
>  Please note the story is the same till the end of chapter 2 where we end with the bad touch trio. After that the story is completely different.

"Hey, France!" A voice called out loudly from behind. "Who do you think you're leaving without, bastard?" England's irritated voice rung out. "You promised we'd go together, wanker!" Canada turned slowly, looking surprised. "Um, are you talking to me?" "Huh?" England pulled up short. "C-Canada? I'm sorry, I thought you-" He looked ashamed. " You looked like France from behind." He muttered, embarrassed. "Eh?" Canada's eyes went round. He'd often be mistaken for America, but never for France before. England's phone buzzed, and he turned even redder as he read his message. "Ah, never mind. It seems something came up and he won't be able to come today." He looked sheepishly at Canada. "Even though I was waiting for him, that ass." He waved awkwardly at Canada and turned to go. "I'll see you later, then!" For a moment Canada was frozen, thinking. Then, he looked down at the blue t-shirt he was borrowing from America, and slowly, an idea started to form. What if he... _pretended_ to be France. He spoke French too, he looked similar enough, and while he wasn't a pervert, he did know a thing or two about sex...

......... 

"France?" England said in surprise when he entered the room. "I thought that you couldn't come today?" France smiled knowingly and shook his wavy blonde hair. "Désolé for earlier, Britain. I was able to make time at the last minute." France explained, his French accent seeming slightly different than normal. England started at him for a moment, trying to figure out what was different. "Did you shave?" England was surprised, staring at his smooth chin. "Eh? oh, oui!" France winked. "I feel it makes me look très beau." He leaned in closer to England, as though to show off. Instantly England chopped him in the head. "Stay away, frog!" France smiled as though he knew a secret, and with a light laugh, France left and slipped into his seat, next to where Canada usually sat. Canada's seat was empty today, which was just as well as Russia came in next and promptly sat down in it. Russia's three vasal nations trailed behind him, timidly as always, but it wasn't long until Estonia wandered off to find Iceland, and Lithuania snuck off to speak with Poland, leaving a terrified Latvia alone with Russia.   
  
Russia occupied himself with feeding the small nation with sweets, which Latvia accepted timorously. "Bonjour, Russia." France greeted, his arm accidentally brushing Russia as he sat down. "Do not touch me." Russia responded pleasantly, with a cold smile. "I didn't mean-" France began, but Russia ignored him, instead reaching out to brush some crumbs off Latvia's face. Latvia flinched away from Russia, and France noticed the hurt look in Russia's eyes. He gently placed a comforting hand on Latvia's head, ignoring the ever threatening aura Russia was emitting. "Russia, you are so large and intimidating," He began, trying not to sound nervous himself. "Because of that you must move slower or it will be scary~" he purred, reaching out a hand with gentle movements towards Russia. "You have something in your 'air. " He announced, gently smoothing at Russia's hair and tucking it back, before pulling his hand back. "See?" France offered to the surprised Russian. "If you move slowly and announce your intention it is less scary. Try it~" he encouraged. Russia blinked, evidently wondering what the hell was going on, before he slowly brought his hand up, though his movements were nowhere near as gentle or smooth as France's.  
  
"You have crumbs on face." He announced, using his gloved thumb to wipe the offending crumbs from Latvia's face. The baltic country was still trembling, but this time he didn't flinch away. "Ah t-thank you Mr. Russia." "Latvia stammered out.Russia's eyes were wide with wonder. Normally instead of thanking him, the Baltic nations would cry "I'm sorry! Please don't hurt me!" He stared at his hand in surprise. "See?" France said in a satisfied tone. "If you only communicate and move a slower, you will be understood better. Well, I 'ave to go, Spain is calling moi. " He swirled away and his cape fluttered a little with the motion. Russia stared at France's back for a moment longer, still comprehending the situation. "Mr. France seems different today." Latvia ventured cautiously. "Da." Russia agreed, watching as Spain grabbed France by the arm and pulled him down into the seat next to him.


	2. Chapter 2

"Amigo, what is wrong?" Spain broke off in the middle of his gush about Romano. "Eh?" France questioned, caught off guard. "Yeah, he's right!" Prussia cut in. "You haven't said anything about Canada in the last 5 minutes? What's wrong?" France's violet eyes widened in shock, then his face turned red. "Surely I don't talk about Canada that much, oui?" Prussia laughed. “Only non-stop!" He snickered. "I still think you should just go talk to him." Spain advised. "I'm sure he would be happy to hang out again." He placed a comforting hand on France's shoulder. "Mais-" France started, but was cut off by Prussia. "No, buts!" Prussia was loud. "Even if you still feel guilty about surrendering him, you had no choice! I'm sure he misses you! Do you know how glad I was to see West again when the Berlin Wall fell?" Seemly subconsciously, Prussia glanced across the room, where Germany stood, and a gentle smile formed on his face. "He's right" Spain scolded, "If I was separated from Romano for any reason I would be dying to see him again. And I know he would miss me even if he doesn't say so." Spain too glanced at the one in point, proudly, as if looking at a treasure. 

France felt a lump form in his throat. I-I see." Tears glittered at the edges of his eyes, threatening to fall. Spain dug into his coat and handed him a handkerchief. "Well, we won't force you to do anything that you aren't ready for." Prussia nodded. "That would totally unawesome." He agreed. France dabbed at his eyes, and smiled gratefully. "Merci." "No worries pal, We know how much he means to you!" Prussia smirked, waving France off. "You're totally not yourself today. Go, wash up, and cheer up man! We are here for you, ja?" France nodded, and offered Spain back his handkerchief silently, not trusting himself to speak, before briskly walking away, blinking back tears. Spain and Prussia watched him go. "You're right Prussia, he is totally not himself today." Spain observed. "Ja, almost like he's a different person." Prussia noted. For a moment the words hung on the air between him, then they both gasped. "You don't think-?"


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, if you have read my other similar work:  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/22021507  
> Please note the story differs from this point on.

France had barely stepped out of the bathroom after composing himself when he was almost run over by America. "Dudes!" America came running, towing England behind him, looking quite worried." I can't find Canada! He didn't show up today!" "Who?" England queried, before seemingly realizing. "Oh, Canada. I saw him earlier today, I think." He wrinkled his brow as he thought. "Ah, yes," France cut in, spinning a lie. "He called me to say he couldn't come but I forgot to tell you. Sorry." 

"I hope he's okay!" America fretted. "I'll have to go visit him after." France felt a new warmth in his heart for America. "I am sure he is fine." He assured America. America frowned. "What gives dude, you shoulda told me earlier!" He scolded France. "Ah , I'm sorry aboot that. Sorry." France bit his tongue as he found himself slipping into his usual way of speaking. England clicked his tongue. "Your stupid accent is ruining my language." He hurrumphed. 

America frowned, and seemed like he was about to say something, then decided against it. "Right." He said, suddenly sounding distracted. "I'll talk to you later, I want to go check something." He turned and ran off, leaving England and France alone in the hallway. France cursed in French. "Did he notice?" He muttered to himself quietly. "Notice what?" England said tersely. "Ah, nothing, Britain." France dismissed him and turned to go back down the hallway. England frowned and followed him. "Since when do you call me Britain?" France pretended not to hear.


	4. Chapter 4

France was in the middle of another 'conversation' with England, although the word argument might be more correct. "Well, all you do is think about sex! " England yelled. "What's sex?" A small voice nearby said. Without thinking, France answered. "Ah, sex is when two people who love each other get naked and then they $&@#¥® and the #&£* goes in the $&§% and then- " France was suddenly tackled to the ground by England. England fastened his hands around France's throat and shook. "You idiot! You Perv! You can't just tell a little kid this information!" "Eh..?" For the first time France noticed the other nation was only a child, with a sailor suit and England's big busy eyebrows. Sealand's face was bright red, and his eyes were spinning. "But Sealand isn't human, oui? He will not grow bigger without more land anyways?" France tried to defend himself. England's hands tightened on France's throat and cut the words off. "You wanker!" England hissed, pinning France down with his body weight. "I'm saving your life!" He jerked his head a little to the left, and France nearly passed out as he saw a very angry Finland and a glowering Sweden standing there. England jumped up and hauled France away by his neck, shouting about teaching him a lesson, while France continued to choke.

England pulled France into another room, slamming the door, before finally releasing France, who rubbed his neck ruefully. "You complete buffoon!" England snapped, turning on him. "Do you _want_ to die? What were you thinking, you pervert?" England was visibly flustered, throwing his hands up in the air and stalking around in circles. "I thought you had at least a little shred of decency in you! I trusted you, you promised that you would never-" He turned suddenly as though a sudden thought occurred to him. "If you _touched_ Canada-" His eyes flashed like in his pirate days. "N-non!" France threw his hands up, desperately. "France never touched me!" England was in a rage, not listening. "Why, I should tell America! If he finds out what you did, he would destroy you!" "But-" "I can't believe you!" England was literally huffing from his rant, but did not seem inclined to stop anytime soon. "I Always knew you were a pervert, and a rapist, and a scumbag, but when you said you would never indecently touch a child, I believed you! I can't _**believe**_ you, you, you- " England stumbled over the word, as though the taste of it disgusted him. "You _Pedophile_!"

That was one step too far, and France sprung to his feet, cursing in French, tears falling from his eyes. England was able to pick out only a few words in between the French curses and the tears. "France would _never....._ how _dare_ you.....Maple.... _shove a hockey stick up your_.....slandering.....hurt you..." England suddenly felt very lost. He hadn't done anything wrong, so why did it seem like he was the bad guy?


	5. Chapter 5

Suddenly, the door slammed open, and America rushed in, followed by...France? But.. "What?" England said out loud, head swiveling between the angry crying France on his right, to the other France, fretfully wringing his hands in the doorway on his left. America stopped midstep, freezing at the sight of the other France. "England, you ass, what the hell did you do to Canada?" He hissed. "Canada?" England repeated as though in a daze. Suddenly, so many things clicked for him.

How France had been calling him Britain, like only Canada does, the way he had barely flirted at all today, the lack of chin stubble and that time this morning when he ran into Canada thinking he was France, it all fit together. "Mon cher," France fretted, wiping at Canada's tears with his handkerchief. "It's is okay, he didn't mean any of the things he said to you, he was only insulting moi, chérie." To France's dismay, that only seemed to upset Canada more and he threw himself into France's arms, shaking with sobs. "You're not... You would never.... He's wrong.." Canada muttered brokenly with a few more curses that would have caused England to wash out his mouth with soap, if he had known.

"Canada.. But..." England was reeling with the shock. America turned on him. "What the hell dude? You can't treat Canada like that! He's sensitive! He's not used to being bullied by you like France and I are." "Bullied?" England spluttered, but America wasn't done. "He's not used to being insulted all the time! Look at him, he's a mess!" America waved a hand towards the crying Canada, whose carefully styled hair was beginning to come undone as he sobbed. A single curl rebelliously broke free and popped up, and suddenly England couldn't understand how he had ever confused the two.

Canada clung to France, and America awkwardly stood in between him and England, as though unsure what to do. He settled for glaring at England as though he may attack, and offered Canada a coke he had been holding. Canada managed to stop crying and took a few sips of the sugary liquid. Before sniffing and wiping his nose with the provided handkerchief. America looked relieved when Canada stopped crying and separated himself from France, shakily.

Canada reached up and pulled America down by the sleeve, and when America obligingly leaned down, Canada whispered into his ear for a few full minutes, and America's face went through a serious of expressions; surprise, disbelief, wow-I-can't-believe you-did-that, anger, and finally settled on a tense look lined with irritation. He turned to give England a long, hard look, and frowned. He met Canada's eyes and nodded as though agreeing, and Canada managed a grateful smile.

"Hey, bro, why don't you go change?" America said with a controlled casual tone. "I got France to bring some stuff for you." He nodded to France, and France, seemingly understanding, nodded and pulled Canada with him out of the room, gently. Canada followed without a sound, except for a few small sniffles. America stayed in the room, and for a few minutes, didn't move at all, except for muscles twitching as he clenched his jaw. Finally, he spoke. "England, you've gone too far."


	6. Chapter 6

England flinched at the tone, and for a moment, he was standing on the battle field, opposite America once again, and the look in America's eyes was unyielding. Just like that time, England knew he was going to lose, no matter what he tried, no matter how desperate he was. England suddenly felt very weak and alone again. America pinched his nose and then continued, carefully picking his words. "No matter how much you hate France, to say such a thing to him-" He paused and met England's eyes.

"It's true I'm not very close with France and there's a lot about him I don't know. But you know who I do know?" His voice was beginning to rise. "Canada." America began to pace. "You were gone most of the time while I was growing up, I had to fend for myself. And you know who took care of me that whole time? Canada!" America was sounding very agitated now, and England flinched at his words. "Canada was the one who cooked for me, and who taught me to cook actual food too! And do you know what? Canada learned all this from France."

America stopped pacing and looked England dead in the eyes. "So yeah, I might not know France very well, but I know Canada, and Canada knows France. Canada trusts him, and I trust Canada. So if Canada says that France isn't like that, I believe him, and I won't let you say anything like that again." America finally came to the end of his rant, panting a little. "And you know what?" America added as an afterthought in a much calmer tone. "Just cuz France doesn't show it doesn't mean your words don't hurt him either." He ran a hand through his hair, and sighed distantly.

With that sigh, England suddenly remembered multiple of times that he had insulted France, multiple times he had insulted America, almost as a habit, with no real thought to it. He hesitated, wondering how many times he'd hurt them both. How many times had he hurt America, like that? Even before the revolution, he knew he had been harsh on him, but he hadn't meant those insults, he hadn't meant to be be so domineering.


	7. Chapter 7

England wondered if something was broken deep inside him. Ever since he could remember, his feelings seemed to get twisted up on their way out, and when he spoke, what he said was different than what he meant. Even when he was a child, when he wanted to tell France that he admired him, and wanted to be like him,he was too scared, and the words that came out were harsh and false. "Stay away from me! Stupid Frog! Your hair is dumb and girly!" He felt another pang in his heart. Even though he had always pushed France away, France had always come back to him, and when England was hurt, even if it was in a scuffle with France's boss, France would come find him later and tend to his wounds. England wondered when he has forgotten those tender moments with France, when had he become so cold and harsh. Even now, he didn't _hate_ France. It's true he found him smug and insufferable, and definitely flirtatious, but he didn't despise France.

He was just...jealous. He realized this with a start. He was jealous of France for having so many friends, for getting along with people easily, and for always seeming to enjoy himself. Perhaps that is why he had fought so hard to take Canada from him. Because he was sure that if he had something that made France so happy, it would make him happy too. Maybe that was why he had chosen to forget Canada time and time again. Perhaps he had given up when seeing Canada cry, day after day, for France had only made him feel worse. Maybe that's why he'd been so quick to let Canada become independent, even though he fought America so hard over the same issue. England felt the guilt building in his throat, choking him.


	8. Chapter 8

It was America's even tone that interupted his self reflection. "But you know," America said calmly, not meeting England's eyes, "I'm glad." England jerked his head up, eyes wide. Why would America be glad after how he treated Canada and France? After how he treated him? "Because you care, right?" America smiled ruefully. "You never say things the right way, but you were just worried about Canada, right?" He finally turned to face England full on. "Thank you." With those words, America walked out the door, closing it firmly behind him without a backward glance.

England felt the ball in his throat grow larger, almost suffocating, and then, suddenly, tears were rolling down his face too. He wiped at the tickling feeling on his cheeks, and stared dumbly at the tears on his hands. England could remember the last time he had cried, so vividly. Kneeling alone in a muddy field, tears merging with the rain rolling down his face, knowing he had lost what he held most precious.

And suddenly England was crying for countless reasons. For the harsh words he spat at France and America, for Canada, who he had neglected, for himself and everything he had pushed away, and for the two simple words America had said to him, words he rarely heard. How long had it been since someone sincerely thanked him for something? For anything? But mostly, England cried for the simple reason that he hadn't been able to until now.


	9. Chapter 9

France wiped Canada's face with wet paper towels, murmuring soft comforting phrases repeatedly. " Ça va. It's okay, shhh, chérie, sweet boy, ça va." The soft spoken words worked their magic, and Canada managed a small smile. "Ahhh, Cher, your belle eyes," France moaned regretfully, "they are all swollen and red." Canada laughed a little at this. "I'm fine. Merci." France tipped Canada's chin up and stared at his face a while longer.

Canada took advantage of his silence to ask what had been bothering him. "You are not mad?" He looked timidly into France's eyes. France's eyes widened. "Non, of course not, chérie." Canada's lower lip was trembling again as he pressed on. "But I made them all mad at you." He dropped his eyes to the floor and bit the inside of his cheap. France gently pressed a finger along Canada's cheek, pressing on his jaw, and forcing him to open his mouth slightly. "Non. And please don't bite, it is bad for you." France responded firmly, and Canada obediently stopped biting. "Mais-" Canada tried again, but France stopped him. "No buts. I will never be mad at you. I know who you are and you never do anything to purposely hurt or upset anyone."

He gave Canada a stern look. "Still, I hope you will learn from your mistakes and continue to grow from your experiences." Canada seemed to relax for the first time. "Oui." He whispered quietly. For a moment there was no sound except for France tossing the wet paper towels away in the trash, and the dropping of the bathroom tap. Canada tugged on his red hoodie France had brought for him and broke the silence. "Sorry for stealing your clothes." 

France tutted. "Borrowed. And it was only one of many." He smiled to himself as a thought occurred. "Besides, I'm glad, it gave me an excuse to talk to you." Canada shifted at that statement and hesitantly asked a question. "France, why do you not talk to me outside of meetings?" France flinched as though he had been hit, and Canada was quick to backtrack. "Nevermind, I mean I know you're busy and that I'm easy to forget, its not like you have to talk to me or anything." France only looked more pained as Canada spoke, and Canada slowly trailed off, ending with a small "I'm sorry."


	10. Chapter 10

France swallowed and forced himself to talk."I-" he stopped, not knowing what to say. Canada tried again, as gently and politely as he could. "France, do you remember, back when I was New France?" He phrased the question carefully. France's face answered for him, even before he spoke. "Oui." France's voice was incredibly soft. "It was the happiest time of my life." Canada confessed. "Don't get me wrong, I don't hate Britain, and you know I love America, but those days, when it was just me and you, I loved those days." Canada was quick to clarify.

He hurried on, not looking at France's face. "You know, I never blamed you." He twisted his fingers together. "I know it wasn't your fault, you couldn't keep me. But I always knew we would meet again someday." His voice got softer. "You promised we would. And I was really looking forward to it, but.." Here Canada trailed off, unsure how to say it.

He didn't need to. France found the words that had been in stasis for so long. "Desolé." He apologized, for all the times he hadn't spoken to Canada, for all the times he turned away when he saw Canada looking at him. He apologized for not being able to keep him from Britain, and for blaming himself so much he couldn't move on from it. France apologized for all his regrets towards Canada in that one word.

Then, France made his first move towards his redemption. “From now on, you and I, let's make lots of memories to make up for the times we couldn't." He offered, almost shyly, unusual for France. Canada lit up. Starting from his eyes, then his face, then even his curl seemed to perk up. France could see once more, beyond the mature face, beyond the resigned nature and swollen eyes, the same young boy he has seen before.

The one who's eyes lit up when learning how to make crepes, who had brightly presented France with a handmade card, the first present France had ever received for his birthday. He saw the same little boy, at first shy and meek, but who would laugh boisterously when tickled, who would get angry when France was insulted, and would sing so clearly the lullabies France had taught him so many years ago.

For the first time, France realized that he had never really lost Canada. This whole time, Canada had remained the same, waiting for the day that he and France could reunite again. Canada had grown, and matured, but had never changed, and was the same being that France had known so many years ago. He brushed the tears from the corner of his eyes as Canada threw himself once again into France's arms and answered clearly, and loudly for Canada: "Oui!"


	11. Chapter 11

America leaned outside the bathroom door, listening. He smiled, as he listened unashamed to the special moment France and Canada were sharing. Finally, when it seemed like they were about done, America loudly slammed the door open. "Yo, bro, did you die? You're taking forever!" France and Canada both stared at him for a moment, then slowly unfroze. Canada hopped off the bathroom counter were he had been sitting, and walked over to America , looking a little sheepish. France laughed for no real reason. America noticed how satisfied the two looked and almost felt guilty he'd interrupted.

Almost. He looked at France, hard, but spoke lightly. "That England is such a loudmouth." He complained putting arm casually around Canada's shoulders. "He needs someone to keep him in line." he shook his head exasperatedly. France got the hint and nodded to Canada. "I'll go find him, Cher. He's probably upset." he winked at Canada, and America hoped he hadn't made a mistake. Canada's responding beam was enough to reassure America, and France laughed again and left, calligg to Canada. "I will talk to you later!" 

America felt a huge grin take over his face, but didn't say anything about it, only steered Canada out of the bathroom with him. "C'mon, bro, let's get McDonald's!" Canada wiggled out from under his arm. "Or Tim's?" He suggested hopefully. America considered this. "Do they serve burgers?" Canada shook his head. "They have coffee and donuts." he offered. America frowned for a moment, then decided. "We can can get both!" Please with his decision, he grabbed Canada's hand and hauled him down the hallway. 

This time Canada did not pull away, and America felt his brother's warm hand curl around his. "Thank you." His brother's almost impossible to hear voice whispered. It was so soft it was barely a whisper, but America heard. He squeezed Canada's hand in return, but all he said was "You better buy me a donut at Tim Hortons." Canada had sighed with a show of exasperation, but the smile of his face and twinkle in his eyes showed he was teasing. 

_After all,_ America decided happily, _That's what siblings do._


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally reuploaded the last chapter earlier. I've update it now. This is the last chapter.

France stopped outside of the door, hearing the sound of sobbing coming from inside. France couldn't help but falter. He hadn't heard England cry like that since he was a child. Finally, softly, he opened the door, and slipped inside, closing it behind him almost noiselessly. England was curled into a ball, crying like France had never heard him cry, not even when he was young. France moved as though he had been transported many years back in time. He approached England softly, like he was an injured animal that might attack at anytime, and with gentle, slow hands, he pulled England's head into his lap, and smoothed England's hair soothingly.

He didn't speak, only calming stroked England's hair as he cried. For a moment, France felt like he was still a young boy wearing light and flowy clothes, and England was only a child himself, like so many years ago. For a moment France felt pathetically happy to be in this position once more. As much as he chose to joke about it, France missed the old days, when England ran to him whenever he wa upset, and France would comfort him. France felt guilty for enjoying this moment when England was so clearly upset, and toyed gently with England's hair in a way he hadn't done since they were children. 

But everything comes to an end eventually, and soon, almost too soon for France, England pulled away, sitting up and messily wiping his eyes with a handkerchief. He gave France a doubtful half-hearted glare, as though he was expecting France to tease him, or comment on his emotional breakdown. He opened and closed his mouth as though he was not sure what to say, and France took pity on him and stood up, stretching. "Ah, I would really love some good wine and some delicious food right now." He said casually, as though he had just woken from a long nap. England blew his nose and muttered, "Wanker, are you implying my food isn't delicious?" but his tone lacked it's usual bite, the words sounded more like a habit at this time.

France grinned at him, delighted to hear him sounding like his usual self. "Ohon, are you trying to invite me to dinner? Or poison me?" He laughed. "Idiot!" England snapped, already forgetting about his earlier embarrassment. "I'll have you know that not all of my food is bad!" France's smile stretched further." Oui? Then you will have to cook for me so I can be the judge of that." He smirked, and danced out of the room ahead of England before England could figure out that France had lead him into inviting him to dinner. 

England followed him, loudly proclaiming that his fish and chips were the best, didn't he know America loved them? " As he set the time to come for England's dinner, France couldn't help but wonder if it wasn't that France had successfully manipulated England into inviting him for dinner, but France who had been manipulated into inviting himself. After all, England had always been unable to say what he felt. France couldn't help butlaugh at the the thought. No matter how many years passed, England was always the same. Besides, France realized, he didn't even want to eat England's food. He turned a little pale the idea and wondered if it was too late to cancel.

One glance at England's shining eyes as he already planned the meal was enough to steel France's heart. "Ah, the things I do for family." He thought to himself with a slight chuckle ans he followed England out to his car.


End file.
